


Symmetry

by h311agay



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Eating Disorders, Please do not read if you are sensitive to the above material, Self-Harm, Suicide, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3365219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h311agay/pseuds/h311agay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death The Kid is tired of not being perfect, tired of not being what he strives to be. He can no longer handle the pain inside of him, the hatred inside of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symmetry

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this two years ago and have advanced significantly in my writing style so I'm posting this in my current style because the story itself is a wonderful idea, just written badly. This is the revised version. Typed up with no Beta read so forgive me for any mistakes. It has also been two years since I watched the show so do forgive me for errors in that area as well.

 

>  
> 
> sym·me·try
> 
>  
> 
> ˈsimətrē/
> 
>  
> 
> _noun_

 

 

>  
> 
>   1.  the quality of being made up of exactly similar parts facing each other or around an axis.  
>  "this series has a line of symmetry through its center"
>   2. correct or pleasing proportion of the parts of a thing.  
>  "an overall symmetry making the poem pleasant to the ear"
>   3. similarity or exact correspondence between different things.  
>  "a lack of symmetry between men and women"
> 

> 
>  
> 
>  

The bathroom was sterile, shining brightly and clean. Death stood in front of a full body mirror, his pale body exposed, and pinched some skin around his hip bones, scowling at himself. "Too much body fat; it throws off your symmetry. You're a pathetic waste of life." He shut his golden eyes, taking a deep breath as another wave of nausea rolled over him, causing and his head to spin and a small moan to escape his white lips. He fell to his knees in front of the cold porcelain toilet, putrid liquid setting fire to his already sore throat and nose; the contents of his stomach emptied into the bowl. Breathing heavily, Kidd ran his bony fingers through his unwashed and disgustingly asymmetrical hair. He dropped it to flush the evidence. The Shinigami turned to shower and turned the knob until it rested precisely in the middle, then, before turning on the water, he situated the shower-head directly halfway between both sides. He stripped, tossing his clothing into the hamper and turned on the water as he stepped in. Kidd shivered violently as icy pellets rained down onto him. there was a mirror in the shower and Kidd frowned deeply at the three white bands in his hair that only streaked through the left side. He grabbed a pair of scissors that he had swiped from the kitchen, the silver gleaming objects held tightly in his right hand as he clutched hair in his left.

He brought the blades of the scissors as close to his scalp as he could handle before snipping the hair and trembling as he felt the strands ghost down his back and arms. The sound of cutting hair and the patter of water filled the bathroom. Death the Kidd watched as the patches of his hair swirled down the drain, disappearing into the dark abyss of water. He took the scissors and ran them under the water, watching the specks of black and white hair wash away. He sighed, his chest tight and heart hammering. He couldn't back down now, not after he had come so far. He had already written the letter and set it on his desk. He had already called Patty and Lizzy to come over in an hour. He had twenty minutes to do this. He took one of the dull blades of the scissors and ran it down the the length of his forearm, hissing in pain. He watched as red burst forth, staining his arm and the tub. With shaking hands turned crimson, he switched which hand held the scissors and repeated the motion. The throbbing pain in his wrists was intense, but he set the scissors down gently. His breathing was ragged as he slipped down the wall and sat in the tub. He flicked up the drain lever, letting the water collect in the tub as he also turned up the heat of the water. 

His head felt as if he had submerged it into a pool without warning, everything was spinning and moving; he couldn't recall the last time he ate. "Filthy. Disgusting. Worthless," he muttered, ignoring the gnawing pain in his stomach and the fiery pain in his arms. "You'll never live up to the expectations presented to you, so why live at all?" He laid back his head and shut his eyes, body suddenly flooded with fatigue, his limbs filled with lead. "You're a horrible Meister, always yelling at Patty and Lizzy and blaming them for your mistakes." He weakly opened his bronze eyes to look at his dying body one last time before letting himself slip of into oblivion.

Perhaps dying was the only way to heal Death the Kidd.


End file.
